


mischief makers (the good place is wherever we are)

by chaoticthot



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Angst, Fluff, Gen, Team as Family, also they're aged up a little for this because i can't write kids lmao, and also there might be possible relationships, no beta we die like men, obligatory harry potter au for the fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28263306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaoticthot/pseuds/chaoticthot
Summary: Eleanor Shellstrop didn’t believe in magic. The entire idea that one could just wave their hands around, shouting absurd phrases at the top of their lungs and end up with a glass full of shrimp was just ridiculous.
Relationships: Tahani Al-Jamil & Chidi Anagonye & Jianyu Li | Jason Mendoza & Eleanor Shellstrop
Kudos: 7





	1. the letter arrives

Eleanor Shellstrop didn’t believe in magic. The entire idea that one could just wave their hands around, shouting absurd phrases at the top of their lungs and end up with a glass full of shrimp was just ridiculous. Magic was like Santa Claus, created so that starry-eyed children could play dress-up and wave around disgusting sticks in the air and adults could laugh at them and say, “that’s so cute!”, and pinch their cheeks like Donna Shellstop had done when she was trying to figure out why Eleanor was crying. Eleanor was eleven, which meant that she was an adult, and so she declared that magic was a fraud.

Which was why the letter didn’t make sense. 

‘HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY’ screamed at her from the yellowed parchment paper, as if some invisible force out there in the universe was cackling while watching her squirm at their games. 

It wasn’t even the first letter. She had thrown like dozens of them away, and still they kept coming, and coming, even after Eleanor ripped the last few into shreds and used them to start a fire so she could skip class. It had developed into some sort of game, defiling the letter as much as she could as if she was giving the middle finger to whoever kept taunting her. 

Her first thought had been, “that fucking bitch,”, because it had to have been Peggy who slipped the paper into her bag. All because she had emptied her bottle of water on her for sneering so derogatorily at her math marks. Served her right. She planted the first few letters into Peggy’s bag and hid in a corner to watch her reaction, but all the bitch did was to throw it in the trash. 

Okay, so she might have been wrong then. Still, it didn’t make sense. Magic wasn’t real, and everyone who she tested hadn’t even given the letter a guilty second glance. It pissed her off so much that she couldn’t figure out who was planting the letter that she made it a point to ruin the letters as much as she could every time a new one arrived. 

And then this one came. This one wasn’t like the others. It didn’t arrive neatly sealed in an ancient envelope, placed carefully into her letterbox. No, this one didn’t even have an envelope. The parchment paper was rolled and tied up by an expensive-looking ribbon, and delivered by an owl. 

An owl which was currently perched on her windowsill, glaring at her with that judgy little beady eyes, like she was the weird one. 

An ugly owl.

A fucking owl.

A…no, repeating it over and over again didn’t make the owl go away. It just made the seconds drag on longer, and thank god that Mom and Dad were too busy competing to see who could scream the loudest to bother even entering their daughter’s room. 

So, no. Definitely not them who sent the owl or the letter. Eleanor would be surprised if they even knew how to spell, much less craft such a cool (okay, she would admit it in her head) letter. A cool letter that was currently the bane of her existence, because...because magic didn’t exist. It couldn’t. And even if it did, how was she a witch? 

Eleanor Shellstrop, a dirtbag born and bred in Arizona, a witch. Someone had to have made an administrative mistake somewhere, because it just didn’t make sense. But, somewhere deep inside her, her traitorous mind whispered the unspeakable.

Maybe she was a witch. Or at least, she wanted to be one. Obviously not for the fashion or the ‘burning at the stake’ part, but, honestly, how cool was it? It was every kid’s dream, and while Eleanor was definitely not a kid, it still seemed pretty cool to be able to fly around on broomsticks and curse everyone who crossed her to have snakes for hair. Plus, it made more sense the more she thought about it. She always knew she was special, albeit it was probably because she was the only one who dared to rebel the classic and cliche system of ‘cliques’ and stand alone, and being a witch was definitely going to secure her position as above everyone else in her school. Her school now was really boring, and high school was probably the same, but a magic school might just give her some challenge.

Definitely not because she was giving up on their game, or that her traitorous little heart squealed at the thought of a magic school.

And so, she got to work, unfolding a crumpled ball of homework, flipped over to the blank page, picked up a pencil, and started to write in big, bold letters. 

“To whoever-is-in-charge…”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Chidi Anagonye had a stomach-ache. Mother and Father were, as always, trying their best to help, but nothing they could do could calm his nerves. They had sat him down and explained the details to him when he was ten, confident that he was mature enough to handle the information, and Chidi had a stomach-ache then. 

Would it be ethically wrong for him to leave Mother and Father, and head off to the other side of the world on his own? Well, technically, they assured him that they were considering moving anyway and would probably follow him to London, but it didn’t make Chidi feel any better. Quite the contrary, in fact. There was a chance they were lying, and lying was always bad, but their intentions were good which contradicted with -

Oh, god. He was having a stomach ache. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to learn magic. He did. He really did. Well, the very system of the magical world posed so many ethical questions, and that by itself simultaneously irked and attracted him. 

But, magic. Now, Chidi prided himself on being logical and rational, about thinking his every decision through so as to ensure that they would be the best (albeit a bit too much), but he was also eleven, and to decline seemed like betraying what he really wanted, but his parents. And was it wrong for him to learn magic when so many other children were deprived of the chance to learn it simply because they were not born lucky? His father’s magical blood had ensured a higher chance of being born with the affinity for magic, but for every one of him, there existed thousands of ‘him’ who were not as lucky. 

Though, him refusing to learn magic changed nothing. It could even be argued that agreeing to learn magic would in fact better his chances of helping them. 

Which led him back to his parents. It had only been three years since his parents had considered divorce, and while he was not arrogant enough to believe it entirely on him for convincing them otherwise, there was no saying what would happen if he just left. Arguments still happened in the Anagonye household, which meant that their relationship wasn’t perfect, and dear god what would he do if he was in school one day and -

“Chidi.” His mother’s voice was soft, the edges of her lips pulled into a soothing smile that reminded him of that feeling he got when he stumbled across a paragraph from a philosopher who confirmed his theories at the moment. Before another philosophy suggested another perspective, and it was back to stomach-aches. “You won’t be alone. Your father and I have agreed on moving to London with you,” she announces, like it solves everything.

The smile she gives him assures that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t have to worry. Doesn’t have to consider the ethical warnings by Kant, the long-term consequences that might happen if it just made the wrong choice. He opens his mouth to protest, to provide another perspective, but the twinkle of her eyes shut him down.

Maybe he could trust his parents.

“Okay.”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Magic was dope? At least that was what Jason Mendoza thought the big, funny-looking old man was trying to say. He didn’t know what a ‘Hock-werd’ was, but Donkey Doug was nodding like the old dude was making total sense, and so Jason followed, nodded his head to the beat. 

Hey, this was a nice beat! Kinda like the previous one Jason wrote, and Pillboi said it was the coolest thing ever, but the not-nice guy hanging outside his school that had laughed at Jason when he played him his song. 

It was really mean, and Donkey Doug agreed, which meant that it was double-mean. And it made Jason really sad, and he wanted to cry, but then Donkey Doug threw ice-cream at his face and Jason was happy again. 

“So, do you understand?” the old funny-man asked, but Jason wasn’t listening to him at all, and he shook his head because he was horny-est, and the man just sighed. He thought that he was doing the right thing, but the man had that face on his face, like Jason’s teachers whenever he raised his hand, and Jason was sad again. 

“Yo, homie, I think you wanted to show me magic,” he guessed, eyes brightening up again. Yo, how could he forget about magic! Magic was like the coolest thing ever. Next to the time Pillboi managed to balance a jalapeno popper on his forehead, but then it toppled down and Pillboi fell off the edge off the bridge trying to catch it, and then Jason jumped into the water after him, and what happened after wasn’t as cool. 

But the old man doesn’t look inpressed, and Jason scratches his head in confusion. He’s always confused. Everyone thinks he should know about things he doesn’t know about, and they get angry when he gets it wrong, like the cop who looked so angry it was scary when she asked Jason if he knew stealing was wrong, and he shook his head because Donkey Doug says its not, and he doesn’t know who she is but Donkey Doug is always right, and -

“You. Go to school in London. Learn magic,” the man repeats, staring at Jason with that face again, like the guys he wanted to play football with, who offered him a small white stick and expected him to do something with it, and laughed when he threw it as far as he could and yelled “Bortles!” 

“Okay! Cool!”

“What…” The funny-man shakes his head, but Jason didn’t ask a question, so he looks on in question. “Okay. So we’ll head to Diagon Alley now,” he starts, then takes out a piece of wood from somewhere and waves it around, muttering not-English, and a small bag flies to his hand. 

Jason jumps, his head swinging wildly around before it turns back to face the man. 

“Woah! That’s dope!!” Jason shouts, pumping his fist into the air. “Show me again!” he exclaims, but the old man is the one confused now. He stares at Jason for too long, like there’s something wrong with him, like that time the cop-woman stared at him without blinking when he asked if she could show him how she put the hand-coughs on again. 

“Maybe next time,” the man says slowly, still staring at Jason, like he’s trying to figure him out. Jason gives him a smile in return, even though he’s confused. It’s okay. He’s almost always confused, but he learned that as long as he follows what people say, and smiles, everything will turn out okay in the end. 

“So, you ready to go? Anything to bring along with you? I don’t suppose there’s a need, you’ll be coming back here anyway,” the old-man claps his hand with a little jump, does a little hop over to the fireplace (Donkey Doug said that any fire you started in the fireplace would never escape and burn down the house), pushing the magazines and empty bottles and empty bags and caps, and the fake trophy Jason bought for $500 because the man told him that the Jacksonville Jaguars would win if he did (but they never did), until the fireplace is emptier than before. 

He throws Jason a bag, and Jason catches it with ease. He pulls it open, and there’s some weird powder inside which he then tries to sniff - “No, there’s not what you’re supposed to do. Look at me.” The old-man takes some powder out of the bag, 

“See, you take some, and then you throw it on the ground, and say ‘Diagon Alley!’. Come, you try,” he pushes Jason towards the fireplace lightly, and Jason steps in. The ground is sticky, but he doesn’t know if it was from the bottles of beer Donkey Doug bought, or from the sweet wrappers he’s stepping on. 

“Now, you have to pronounce it very clearly. Repeat after me. Die-a-gon-ellie.”

Jason doesn’t think twice before dumping the whole bag of weed onto the ground.

“Diagonally!”

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Tahani Al-Jamil knew her destiny. She had her life planned out at the idealistic age of eleven, down to the very veins which would connect every major milestone she would achieve. Of course, she had to. Her parents were very strict, and they did not tolerate failure, especially since Kamilah was so ‘perfect’. Her spark of magical ability bloomed before Tahani’s, and by eleven she could do whatever Tahani could, and more. It didn’t matter that she stood a few inches below Tahani, the heights which she achieved made Tahani feel smaller than ever. 

It wasn’t fair, but Tahani would be the better person, even if it was killing her. Every single “again, Tahani?” after the mini-duel ended and Kamilah had won once more threatened to push her over the brink and send tears flowing down her cheeks uncontrollably, but she was further reprimanded for unnecessary and disrespectful show of emotion’, which gave Kamilah another win. 

God, if only she could wipe that arrogant, self-serving smile from her sister’s face. She was supposed to be the older sister, for god’s sake, and yet she was always the one in Kamilah’s shadow. It just wasn’t fair. 

But there was one thing she had above Kamilah that even neither her nor their parents could change - age. Her chance to attend Hogwarts would arrive before Kamilah’s, which meant that finally (finally!) she would be untethered to the desire to shift the inevident cult worship of Kamilah’s ‘superiority’ onto herself. 

Although, while Hogwarts did have less style than Beauxbatons, Beauxbatons didn’t accept international students, which left her with the worser option. Still, she would be the better person and determine that this did not bother her. It was not as if Kamilah could convince Beauxbatons to waive their ancient and archaic rules for one person (though, if they would do it for anyone, it would most likely be Kamilah and her ability to cast non-verbal magic). 

But this was hers. The Hogwarts letter was hers, and she would treasure it for an eternity. Hugging the letter close to her chest, her tiny feet slamming down onto the ground like raindrops trying desperately to pierce through the rooftops to no avail. 

Both her parents sat in the living room, their faces coloured with the pride Tahani was so painstakingly familiar with, while Kamilah stood in front of them, one of her ‘abstract’ paintings standing proudly on display, adding insult to injury. Their faces were stretched unnaturally into a smile, and words of praise flew out unhindered. Words Tahani wanted so, so desperately to hear.

With all their obsession with competition, they hadn’t even bothered inviting Tahani.

Her footsteps slowed to a stop, and for a moment, the stench of silence choked her, before it started up once more as she slunk away, back to her room.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

And so, history was set in stone.


	2. the train ride

Okay, great. Apparently she was supposed to know where to get a freaking wand (which was super overpriced in her opinion, who paid gold for a stick?) and her textbooks, and where the school was, but she didn’t. Which definitely wasn’t her fault, because no one ever told her. 

It had caused quite a commotion at home when an old man whose hair was so white she was surprised he was still able to walk just popped up at their house, scaring the living shit out of both her parents. Well, Dad was so drunk he thought the dude was a hallucination initially, but Mom just lost it entirely and started beating him with a margarita-stained pillow that she had been lying on. 

Not the best start. 

But, still super funny to watch them actually somewhat work together for something. And then it was resolved quickly. Apparently her dad was supposed to be a wizard, and he was supposed to show her the ropes, which was just utter bullshit. Dad responded by throwing the beer bottle in his hand (but not before throwing his head back and drowning his stomach in it) at the man, who responded by staring incredulously at her Dad and sputtering unintelligibly. Fond memories, up until he explained everything and her parents finally agreed to let her go (her mother was so sure this was some scam, but shut her mouth once he waved a stick and sent a drink of water flying to his open palm). 

Which led her to run through a wall just so she could board one of those old-looking trains to Hogwarts. Almost every kid was surrounded by parents gushing and fawning over them, which left her feeling more alone than before, not that she wanted to make friends with anyone. Friends were a waste of time. It was all going to end anyway. She was better off on her own, like she had always been. And she liked being on her own. 

She trudged up the steps of the train, trailing down the walkway until she found an empty cubicle, which she then proceeded to occupy by lying down on the chair. The old man didn’t mention how long the train ride would take, and if she was lucky, she would be entirely alone for it. 

Should have known she would never be so lucky.

Her eyelids had just barely met her eyebags before the sound of the door being rudely slid open with such ferocity made her jump. What happened next proceeded to irritate her further: some Asian-looking dude screamed, “Bortles!”, and then jumped, landing full-force on the chair opposite her. 

“Jason, no,” another guy (holy shit, why were there two of them?) sighed, literally face-palming. His exasperated tone actually made Eleanor smirk, before it was replaced with an angry glare shared between the two of them. 

“What’s going on here?” another voice, this time higher and with a super posh accent asked, before the head of a giraffe poked into their cubicle. 

“Holy shitballs, where are you guys coming from?” No, no, no, this is not what she wanted. Too much social interaction was a no-no. 

“Jacksonville, baby!” The asian dude shot up, a dopey smile on his face. Wow, okay, he was a little cute, but that didn’t mean he could just barge in like that. 

“I don’t think that’s what she meant.”

“I’m from London. You might have heard of me - Tahani Al-Jamil.” Okay, the giraffe was smoking hot, but god, that tone. It made her fingers twitch. 

“I’m...Chidi. Do you mind if we sit here?” A third guy. Great.

“Yes,” she snapped the same time the Asian dude replied, “No, my dude!”

Chidi looked questioningly at the Jason, but Tahani pushed past him to sit next to the Jason.

“What’s your name?” she asked, like it was her personal goal to make Eleanor's life a living hell. 

Eleanor responded by closing her eyes.

“I’m Jason Mendoza!”

“Hello, Jason.” Giraffe looked freaked out by the dude, and frankly, Eleanor wasn’t blaming her. 

“Erm...is it possible for me to sit down here? I think the train’s moving soon.” Chidi was hovering awkwardly at the door, his face all scrunched up and looking like a clown. She definitely wasn't polite enough to stop her laughter in time, not that the offended face Tahani shot her way wasn't the funniest thing she ever saw. 

“Find another cubicle, dude. All of you, go,” she waved her hands at the door. 

“What’s a queue-bee-girl?”

“...what?” This was terrible. Eleanor wanted a train ride in silence. In silence. Not surrounded by literally the dumbest person she had ever met, an arrogant snob, and some dude who looked like he was going to cry because she wouldn’t move her legs. 

Okay, they were all ridiculously good-looking, but still. It would be so much better if they could just sit there and not talk. 

The train jerked once, and Eleanor’s body lurched forward, rolling off the chair onto the floor. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have, but the embarrassment burned through her when she heard laughter. 

“Woah, I think we’re flying!”

“We’re definitely not flying,” another voice, and then a shadow above her. “Do you need help?” 

She slapped his hand away, pushing herself to her feet and brushing the dust off her shirt roughly, before plopping her butt down on the seat. The worst glare she could conjure up was promptly sent his way, causing him to shrink into himself, the neck disappearing into the collar of his shirt.

God, that was fucking adorable.

No, stupid brain, it wasn’t. Stupid hormones.

“What, you just gonna stand there like an idiot?” He had frozen in his spot, like he was glitching or something. Another deer-in-the-headlights look was sent her way, but this time, she learnt to stifle her laughter. 

She patted the open spot next to her, a mildly threatening smirk growing on her face. He froze from inching forward slowly, eyes darting between her and the other two. The tall-ass giraffe looked annoyed (see, she definitely wasn’t the impatient one) and the dumbass just looked happy for no stupid reason. The cute nerd (he was definitely a nerd - no one wore a button-up shirt to school) turned, lowered his butt down slowly, and finally took a seat.

“Thanks?”

“No problemo, man.” She patted him on the back (a little too roughly), and he coughed, his pleading eyes returning to the two. 

“So what’s your deal? Are all of you wizards too?” Seriously? Was every Tom, Dick, and Harry out there a wizard? The pompous giraffe she could expect (she probably bought her way into it, rich people ew), but the dumbass? Hey, she thought she was special. 

“We’re wizards?”

“...yes? Well, my mother is one, so I think that makes me a half-blood?”

“You don’t know who I am?”

Three very different replies just spat out all at once, and Eleanor’s eyes widened. 

“Wait, what? The shit is a half-blood? And who the heck are you?” she pointed an accusing finger at the giraffe, ignoring the dumbass. 

“I think he means that half of his body contains blood,” the dumbass replied sagely, earning him incredulous looks from the other two. 

“That’s...not what I mean at all.” Real helpful, Chonkster...Carrot...Chandler? 

“I’m Tahani Al-Jamil!” Like that solved anything. 

“I’m Jason Mendoza!”

“This is going nowhere.” Not only could she not be alone, but she was also stuck with a bunch of idiots who were all on different wavelengths. Which, actually, was a situation she had plenty of experience with, thanks to Mom and Dad.

“Look, you. What’s a half-blood?” she pointed at Chandler, who immediately looked like he was either about to have a panic attack or was just really constipated. 

“My mother is a wizard, and my father is a muggle, which makes me a half-blood.”

“The fuck is a muggle?” This was just getting more confusing. Damn it, why wasn’t there some magical spell that could grant her information in a split second.

“Someone who can’t do magic...and please don’t swear.”

“Huh. So what if both your parents are muggles? What does that make you then, a no-blood?” She immediately held out a hand to silence the dumb-ass. 

“That makes you a muggle-born. And well,” guilt was never a good look on anyone, and thank god the same could be said for the giraffe. “Some people have a...distaste for muggle-borns. Which, of course, I don’t understand. Hermione Granger was a muggle-born, and she was just the smartest person I have ever met.”

“I’m a mugger! Well, I used to be with Donkey Doug, but I don’t think I am anymore?” Eleanor was definitely sure that he was as dumb as a bag of doornails, but fuck if his scrunched-up face wasn’t just the cutest thing she had ever seen. 

Not a good time to be having those thoughts, stupid hormones. 

“No, a muggle-born,” the giraffe repeated slowly, like she was explaining something to a 7-year-old. Which, she might as well be. 

“So, what are you then? I’m guessing you’re a full-blood? Royalty?”

“Don’t be silly, dear. There’s no such thing as a full-blood,” she giggled, looking around the cubicle at them, falling silent when she was met with blank faces. Coughing awkwardly, she continued. “I’m a pure-blood. The Al-Jamil family is one of the richest pure-blood families, but I wouldn’t be so preposterous to call us royalty, god no!” 

“I think I’ve heard of you before?” Chandler offered helpfully.

“Oh dear, I do hope I get into Slytherin. My family is full of Slytherins, and Mother and Father would never forgive me if I get into...god forbid, Hufflepuff!”

“...what now?”

“I’m talking about the Hogwarts Houses, darling.”

“...what?”

“Oh, dear. Gryffindor for the courageous, Ravenclaw for the intelligent, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and the best house, in my opinion, Slytherin for the ambitious. Though, don't tell anyone I said that last part.”

“That sucks. Is there a house for people with none of these?” Who the fuck thought that it would be fun to stuff people into what, stereotypes? Nah, Eleanor was having none of that.

“...Hufflepuff?” 

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“Well, I think you’ll fit right into one of them. The Sorting Hat is never wrong.” 

“Sounds like famous last words, buddy.”


	3. Chapter 3

When they said a sorting hat was going to be giving them their cliques for the rest of their school life, Eleanor didn’t think they meant a hat. An actual hat. One that looked like the one she just bought from some wizarding store the old dude (Matthew...Martin...Marcus?) had brought her to. 

The entire train ride had been super annoying (and lowkey fun as well, not that she would ever admit it), but this was it. Good things never lasted long. With all her luck, they would be shoehorned into their respective stereotypes that a hat (a hat! She would never get used to this) had determined for them. The entire idea was just ridiculous, but at the same time, it probably wasn't worth the effort to fight against it. 

“Chidi Anagonye!”

There went the nerd. He was hunched over like he had been gutter-punched, and his steps were slow and hesitant. Honestly, Eleanor thought she would be annoyed by him, but he was really cute. Also very hilarious, which was bonus points to him. 

So was Jason...but that was a different kind of cute. Very different. Chidi and Jason were so very opposite it was hilarious to watch Chidi interact with Jason every single time he opened his mouth. Poor dude was so confused that it was slightly worrying initially, but that wasn’t Eleanor’s style to care about others, especially people she just met. 

“Ravenclaw!” The hat finally announced after a few minutes of long, dreadful waiting, in which Chidi looked like he was either suffering from food poisoning and was about to keel over and die, or still traumatised by the fact that Jason had eaten a chocolate frog. Either way, there was his house. ‘Ravenclaw’, the house of nerds.

“Jason Mendoza!” Jason lit up the moment his name was called, and proceeded to jump his way across the stage and onto the chair. He was weird, but he was funny. And even Eleanor couldn’t deny that he put a smile on everyone’s faces, even if she wanted her lips to turn the opposite direction instead. 

The hat barely touched his head when it exclaimed, “Gryffindor!”, followed by a round of applause and ravenous cheering from what she assumed was the Gryffindor table. 

Yeah, brave was definitely just another word for stupid.

“Eleanor Shellstrop!” Finally her turn. Eleanor felt like she had been standing there for ages, and her legs debated between crumpling in or falling off entirely. 

Her footsteps began fast and steady, determined to get it over with as quickly as possible, but eventually slowed to a hesitant pace right before she reached the grand chair. She didn’t care which house she got into (all of them sounded stupid to her), but what if she didn’t get into any house at all? One needed to have certain traits to quality in the first place, and she was pretty sure that she was the furthest thing from smart, never knew loyalty, was truly a coward at heart, and definitely did not have ambition. 

The whole idea was stupid, but what if she was the only one who didn’t get a house? Not only was it going to be fucking embarassing, it probably meant that she would be expelled and had to endure th entire walk of shame back home to her parents. Especially her mom. 

But she was Eleanor Shellstrop. And Eleanor Shellstrop didn’t back down from anything. If it was up to a stupid hat to decide whether she was allowed in the school, then maybe she shouldn’t be studying in this stupid school in the first place. 

And so she plopped down on the chair with newfound resolve, and the hat was placed onto her head. It barely weighed anything for how big it looked, but it wasn’t the first thing that surprised her. 

“Hm...what do we have here?”

The voice was what made her do a small jump in her chair, and she covered it up by glaring at everybody in case they dared to laugh. 

“Angry, I see. Perhaps Slytherin might suit you well?”

Ambitious? Yeah, right. 

“Or a Ravenclaw, even. Definitely some potential for Ravenclaw. Not too shabby intelligence-wise, but perhaps too stubborn for it.”

She’ll show it stubborn if it kept talking about her like this. 

“Oh, what do we have here? Perhaps…” She held her breath.

“Hufflepuff!” 

The entire Hufflepuff table erupted into cheers, although evidently softer than Gryffindor. The hat was removed from her head before she could protest, and she followed a woman’s direction, still too stunned to protest.

Hufflepuff? Wasn’t that the loyal one? The way the giraffe talked about it made it sound like it was a house for idiots, and Eleanor definitely wasn’t an idiot. Plus, she definitely wasn’t the loyal type. 

Not that she had friends to be loyal too in the first place, but she didn’t want friends. She didn’t need friends. She didn’t need anyone but herself, because everyone else were idiots who would only end up disappointing her in the process. 

And now that she was at the table, she definitely saw what Tahani meant. The people here were...nice. Too nice. Sickeningly nice. The kind of nice that belonged at a birthday party where nobody really knew each other but were forced together because of that one annoying friend they shared.

Somewhere down the line Tahani’s name was called, and the last of the awkward, misshapen group trotted lithely up the stage, her face the perfect representation of nervousness but her posture a conditioned stiffness that betrayed almost nothing. 

Eleanor almost felt for Tahani. The way she talked about the houses in the train made it very, very clear that she could not afford to get into another house not Slytherin, else risk disappointing her parents again. And Eleanor knew a thing or about being a disappointment. Hell, she was pretty sure she was the biggest disappointment of all time when it came to her parents, but the ability to care about that had long been eroded away.

Emphasis on almost. 

The way Tahani lit up when the hat finally announced its decision, smiling that smug, tight-lipped smirk made Eleanor roll her eyes. She made her way over to the Slytherin table with all the taunting poise of the affluent, her gait carrying a grace Eleanor both envied and despised. Or perhaps despised because of her envy. 

She fitted right in, as expected. All of them did, now that Eleanor was scanning the room. Chidi was obviously the most intelligent person in the train cabin (her being second place of course) and Ravenclaw was for the intelligent. Jason...well, she didn’t think he could ever be uncomfortable anywhere. He was a social butterfly. He’d fit right in anywhere. 

The only person who seemed out of place in this seemingly picturesque scenery was her. Again. She was fine with being the loner, or the weirdo. It didn’t matter. It was just really, really annoying to have people trying to spark a conversation with her, people who didn’t understand the meaning of personal space. 

And maybe, although she would rather die than admit it, maybe something had changed in the train ride. She was starting to tolerate the other three’s presence, and now they had to go their separate ways? What kind of bullshit was that?  
Well, it didn’t matter anyhow. She survived her previous school being on her own. She’d survive this too.


End file.
